The other day my family and I went shopping. We wandered around the mall for a couple hours, visiting, and revisiting many of the shops. Every member of the family seemed to find what they were looking for. Except me.  Either the store was out of my size, or they simply didn’t carry what I was wanting. And as time went on, my disposition changed. My smile was turned to a frown and my joy was captured by misery. By the end, I was pretty sour.

Here’s my confession: At times, I can be selfish. I like what I like, and I want what I want when I want it. If things don’t happen how I have preordained them to go, I can get cranky. Actually, I can get really cranky. I try to mitigate this as much as I can, but there are days my cranky curmudgeon rises within me.

We all have a cranky curmudgeon. Our curmudgeon appears whenever we get frustrated because the store does not carry the item we want, or when the restaurant is out of what we desire. The curmudgeon rises when we feel pushed to the side by family, friends, or church community, or when they don’t respond to us as positively as we think they should. Our curmudgeon expresses themselves in a roll of the eyes and exaggerated sighs.

A wonderful example of a curmudgeon is the story of Jonah, the prophet who experienced a divine naughty-spot in the belly of the great fish. After preaching to Nineveh (as little as possible we might add) Jonah retires on the city edge to see what will transpire. He hopes God will do what Jonah desires, destroy the wretched city and all its inhabitants! But much to his irritation, God proves to be gracious and forgiving. And because God doesn’t do what Jonah thinks God should do, he gets very, very cranky. 

When we live from the basis of our curmudgeon, giving voice to the tantrums that erupt within, the spiritual richness of our lives slowly fades. We drift away from the Spirit as we filter our lives through fear not grace, control not mercy. What is more, the voice of the one who made us becomes replaced by the condemning tantrums of “what I deserve” or “what I earn” or “why am I not…”.  Our lives turn inward, self focused, and self-referencing. Ultimately, these tantrums separate us from the love that surrounds us, and blind us to God’s vision for our lives.

So how do we turn away from our cranky curmudgeon? How do we silent the taunts of tantrums and the gibes of grumpiness?

Here is the good news, we are not powerless against our curmudgeon. We are not left to its control. While our cranky curmudgeon may be a part of us, it never defines who we are. We are children of God, loved and held. When the curmudgeon begins to speak too loudly, we can turn away from it. We can choose to listen to a deeper voice, one that speaks of life, love, joy, and redemption.  Henri Nouwen once wrote, “I can choose to speak about goodness and beauty, even when my inner eye still looks for someone to accuse or something to call ugly. I can choose to listen to the voices that forgive and to look at the faces that smile, even while I still hear words of revenge and see grimaces of hatred.”[1]

When Jonah listened to his curmudgeon, he ran away from his calling. He found himself in the belly of a fish, and he became so turned around in frustration and crabbiness that the mere lack of shade made him want to die. But when he listened to the voice of God, he stood on solid land. He accepted who he was called to be, and he heard God disclose a heart of mercy towards all.

Somewhere, amid our frustrations and discouragement there is a voice that speaks words of life and healing. Even in crankiness God is present, and because God is present, God’s grace-filled utterances are both reliable and trustworthy. Forsaking the inner curmudgeon, therefore, is simply about choosing which voice we want to listen to, and then taking a step in that direction.

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[1] Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son, pg. 85